


A Shadow in the Forest

by wnnbdarklord



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fourth Age, Future Fic, Gen, Ghosts, Trick or Treat: Trick, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-07 03:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16400444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wnnbdarklord/pseuds/wnnbdarklord
Summary: There is something in the trees. Burzga, tracker and hunter for her clan, knows there is.





	A Shadow in the Forest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amyfortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/gifts).



> This was fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it! Comments are always welcome :D

There is something in the trees. Burzga, tracker and hunter for her clan, knows there is. The others in her group dismiss it as her cowardice, scared by long ago stories of elf witches and warriors with their bright eyes and arrows. But Burzga is not so lilly livered as that. Not like Skurg and Uza, who boast of their courage, but furtively watch every shadow and falling leaf as though an elf will jump out from behind. Fools, the both of them. Elves have long been nothing but a myth, everyone knows that. 

But there is something in the trees, watching them. Not malicious towards them, not yet at least. Orcs have long been free from any Dark Lords, but most other Free Folk still shunned them. At least they've stopped killing them on sight, though most of her kind are still barred from their cities and towns. Burzga doesn't care, her clan is all she needs. 

Still, their fear of Orcs means her clan has to hunt far and wide for food, avoiding most settlements of Men and their hunting grounds. It's what has driven them to the eaves of this forest, long held cursed by both Men and Orcs. Burzga can't see why. Some of the trees are strange and silver, with golden leaves, but everything else is much like any other forest. The presence that is watching them is old, but not quite a part of this place. 

"This forest gives me the shivers. Ain't right, this woods. Elf touched," Skurg growls. 

"Quiet," Uza says, "You want every animal from here to Anduin to hear you? We press on. No one's hunted in these woods in centuries. It should be teeming with game."

It is teeming alright, but not with game. Burzga gestures to Uza, eyes trained on the movement she caught. Deep in the trees, a light is moving. The forest is now completely still, the rustling of the wind in the leaves the only sound but for their breathing.

They huddle together as the lights move closer. 

"I told you this place was cursed!" Skurg says, drawing his scimitar. He'd dropped his bow, the _pushdug._ At the sound of his voice, the wind picks up. It swirls around them, leaves whirling in its wake until a figure forms.

Uza and Skurg draw back, cursing. Burzga stands her ground. Elvish magic has no more power in Middle-earth and she has just as much right to hunt here as anyone else. The Men have taken most of everything else, she won't let them take these untouched hunting grounds as well. 

The figure in front of them is that of a tall woman, beautiful and terrible, but strangely faded. Burzga gets the impression of dark hair and eyes filled with starlight. Her lovely face twists with rage and her mouth is open in a scream that looks as dark as the Void. 

"DREGO!" she screams in a voice containing all the fury of the winds. Uza and Skrug break and flee, driven by the command in her voice. Eyes like burning embers fix on Burzga and the figure lashes out. 

An unseen force shoves Burzga away, pelting her with sticks and dust.

"LEAVE!" the specter wails again, this time in the common tongue. The command is rendered with all the force of command the spectre possesses. This time, even Burzga quails and follows after her comrades. But her heart is bitter. This is not the end, she swears. 

* * *

Last time, they had entered the forest during the day, excessively cautious of the history of this place. This time, Burzga ventures there alone. Skurg and Uza are cowards who don't have the courage to follow her. She'd left them in front of their fire in disgust. Those two proved true everything the Men say about Orcs. Burzga is not so weak. She will drive this ghost from these woods and claim them for her clan. The hunting here will sustain them for generations. It is a bountiful land. Most places that haven't forgotten elves yet are. 

The forest is quiet around her, but the normal quiet of an undisturbed forest. Burzga watches and listens for the ghost's presence as she creeps forward, bow in hand. It will not be much use against a ghost, but if she encounters a buck, she won't hesitate to bring it down. Feeding her clan is more important than a remnant of some by gone age. 

She must be miles into the forest by now and yet there is no sign of the ghost. Perhaps it only appears during the day? Or is Burzga's presence not considered enough of an invasion to count? Regardless of the reason, she decides to press on. She will continue until dawn. It will take her all night to return to her camp, in any case. 

Something rustles ahead of her. She freezes and slowly, so slowly knocks an arrow into her bow. The undergrowth parts and a doe emerges, tentative and wary. It senses her presence, but the long years of the forest's emptiness of people have made the doe less wary than she should be. 

Burzga draws the arrow and looses just as the doe startles. The arrow flies ahead and the doe escapes. Burzga curses and heads off in the direction the arrow went. Perhaps she can retrieve it. 

She breaks through the undergrowth ahead just as the sun dawns, its light bathing the clearing she finds herself in. It has a hill crowned with the tall strange silver trees. The slopes are covered in small delicate looking white and yellow star shaped flowers. 

Ahead in the distance, she sees movement. She sinks back into the shelter of the undergrowth, her dark skin helping her meld into the shadows of the forest. 

It is the ghost, pale and somehow even more translucent than yesterday, as though the memory of whoever it was is fading. The ghost kneels to pick a flower and smell it; the flower almost looks like it's floating in the pale hand. In the full light of day and at enough distance to not immediately be threatening, the sight is more sad than frightening. 

Burzga retreats. She needs to think. 

* * *

It takes her most of the day to think of an approach. Nothing like this has happened in living memory and Burzga has never been the most attentive in her studies. Still, there are always songs and tales. 

Burzga hunts and catches a rabbit. She makes a fire, and sets it cooking. The flowers lining the hill are fragrant and taste good once she'd tried them, so she uses them as seasoning. All the while, she hums an old, old tune. the oldest she knows. Orcs have never been great creators, so it's probably yet another stolen thing, taken for their own. Orcs have precious few things for their own. 

"I haven't heard a song in Lorien in an age beyond reckoning," the voice is faint, a barely there whisper on the wind. 

"Then sit beside the fire and listen," Burzga offers, not turning around to see the ghostly woman. The air grows cold once Burzga stops humming. 

" _Yrch_ ," the ghost says. The wind rustling the leaves grows louder. Burzga flinches at the word; it is an old word, an evil word. Burzga has never heard it meant kindly. 

"Elf," Burzga says instead, and continues preparing the rabbit. She continues humming. The wind dies down. Burzga can almost hear the ghost deliberate. After a long long moment, the ghost just appears before her. It takes all of Burzga's courage to not flinch. 

The woman reaches a hand to Burzga's face, spectral fingers brushing over her cheek, over her long fangs. She looks sad, but then Burzga gets the impression...no, feeling of a smile. The woman's face is indistinct. 

"It doesn't burn. The Shadow has truly gone."

"For an age beyond reckoning," Burzga repeats the ghost's words, "I'm Burzga, hunter of the Ghâsh clan. How long has it been for you?"

The woman fades and reappears, her features blowing apart and shifting in the wind. 

"I cannot remember. It feels like I have always been thus, fading slowly amidst the trees. I remember...I remember a Man, grey eyed and dark haired. Beyond that…"

Burzga may not know much of her history, but there is only one elf woman in her recollection that ever cared for a mortal Man. The stories say she had died, though. Chosen a mortal life. Not that Burzga knows how such a thing would work, but perhaps it is not so simple as choosing to die. 

"There is only one story I know where an Elf chose to be with a Man," Burzga says, slow and thoughtful. The ghost stops fading and to Burzga's eyes seems even more present. She is exceedingly lovely, hair as dark as midnight and grey eyes lit with an inner glow. 

"The Evenstar, and the Elfstone" Burzga says and the ghost smiles, light pouring from her fair skin. 

"My name...I had forgotten it. I am Arwen," she says, looking the most solid she has ever done. 

"Please, if you know, sing the words," Arwen continues. Of everything today, this trips Burzga up. She has never been renowned for her singing voice; Orcs have few songs and none are meant for a voice such as hers. Still, for this lost remnant, she can try. 

She sings, the words coming haltingly to mind. When Arwen only glows brighter, she grows bolder, putting the full strength of her voice into it. Arwen's smile is radiant. 

Soon enough, Arwen's voice joins her, the elf's voice lovely and high, a clear bell to her earthy tones. Burzga is beginning to enjoy herself; she'd always thought singing a waste of time, but if every song was like this, she can see why the elves spent so much time at it. 

The song ends, but the final note lingers on the wind and repeats, a simple tune carried through the golden leaves. 

"Thank you, Burzga," Arwen says, "You have given me a great gift. I am pleased to see your people freed themselves of the Shadow."

That is kinder than it has to be. It is no secret, even among her people that Orcs never rejected the Shadow while it had power. It was a long road to clear themselves of it. 

Still, this feels like a goodbye. Is giving Arwen her name back enough to release her?

"I can see the path I need to take now. My grief was too great before," Arwen continues. She kneels before Burzga, clasping her hands. Arwen's touch is cool and soothing, nothing like the legends tell. 

"You and all your clan shall be welcome to this wood and all within it as long as you care for it as your own. Love and loyalty shall be given in return thricefold."

The words have the feeling of an Oath, something no one in Burzga's life has ever witnessed. Burzga blinks back tears. Arwen is not just offering her thanks, she is offering her clan a home. Though what they can do in a forest is something that bears further thought.

"Thank you," Arwen says, her smile more radiant than the evening star she was named for. 

The light within her brightens, almost burning. Burzga blinks and Arwen's form fades, leaving only the rustling of the wind. 

Burzga stares at the place Arwen disappeared for a long time, rubbing her fingers together. The constant ache from her badly healed thumb is gone. 

Finally, Burzga sniffs and gets back to preparing her dinner.

* * *

The next morning, Burzga is happy to drop two dead bucks in front of Uza and Skurg. They look like they've been arguing; probably whether to follow her or leave her to her fate in the forest. 

"Let's go back to the clan. I...have a song to tell."

She grins at their expressions and helps them pack up camp. 

Her clan will feed well tonight. And for always, if she has any say about it. Perhaps elf touched lands are not so bad. 


End file.
